I submitted a short memoir about my grandmama to brevity journal. i would LOVE it if they would pick it up. it's perfect for them. and it's a homage made with so much love and adoration. it's strange, when someone you love dies, you sometimes find that you love them more once they're gone, or at least, you love them with more honesty and less restraint. only cuz you didn't really understand what they meant to you when they were alive, cuz you were blinded by routine, weighed down by baggage, cuz you were afraid of losing them, which meant losing the part of you that is part of them. but once they're gone, you don't have a choice anymore. sometimes you just love them because you're not afraid anymore. i've written about my sobo a few times. i just don't know another way to show her my love except by putting a picture of her on my altar, and using language to capture the things that have slipped through my fingers.